


those of your needs

by kettsinn



Series: we all need somebody [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Harry Potter Next Generation, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Kink Negotiation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Sex Toys, Spreader Bars, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-21 02:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10676073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettsinn/pseuds/kettsinn
Summary: The longer he can’t see her, the louder the anxious feeling becomes. It’s like a shaking in his chest – or a buzzing, or a rattling – that grows and grows until he’s trapped inside himself and he can’t get out until she touches him again.





	those of your needs

‘Spread your legs for me, sweetheart. I know,’ she murmurs behind him, her voice a soothing counterpoint to the space between them. ‘I know. ‘

He’s on all fours, legs spread wide until his cock hangs low and heavy beneath him. He feels so vulnerable like this, skin too hot against the cool draft that sneaks through the study, and Rose out of sight. It’s difficult.

The longer he can’t see her, the louder the anxious feeling becomes inside him. It’s like a shaking in his chest – or a buzzing, or a rattling itch – that grows and grows until he’s trapped inside his head and he can’t get out until she looks at him, touches him again.

‘Rose,’ he whispers, feeling choked.

‘Sweetheart,’ she murmurs, agreeing. ‘I’m right here.’

And then she is -- right there in front of him, lifting a hand to cup his cheek. Her thumb strokes lightly at the skin beneath his eye, the callouses from her wand rough against the fragile skin.

‘I’ve got you, baby.’ The look Rose gives him is all kindness and concern. ‘I want to use the spreader on you. You look so beautiful when your legs are stretched open for me, don’t you?’

Scorpius breathes against he inside of her wrist. Of course he does. She always tells him.

“You look the most pretty, the _most_ pretty,’ she says, voice cracking slightly as she leans in, ‘stretched open and unable to move. I want you spread out and tied down and squirming, just a little.’  She presses warm fingers softly against his mouth, her nails pressing gently against the plushness of his lower lip. Her tone is deep and urgent when she asks, ‘Do you want that, baby? Want to look perfect for your Daddy?’

He does, he does, more than she knows, more than _he_ probably knows, only feels it deep in his gut and in the clenching at the base of his spine. But if he can’t see her, then how would he know what he looked like? The skin around his ribs feels tight at the thought. It’s a horrible thought – to not see Rose or, worse, to not have her in the room and to be laid out for the world to see.

Maybe he makes a sound or something, because Rose hums kindly and leans backwards. ‘Do you remember when we talked about it?’

Yes, he remembers, and he remembers how badly he wanted it. He wants to be exactly like she says – legs prized apart with his cock untouched, belly vulnerable before her. Scorpius wants to be left entirely in her hands and to spiral so far away from himself that they only way he can get back is if she leads him home.

But.

Scorpius can barely bring himself to hold Rose’s gaze, so he lets his eyes close. There’s nowhere else to look but forward; his hands are bound together by yards of silk rope that Rose looped over and over until he can’t move his wrists more than a few centimetres apart.

He swallows, ashamed suddenly that he’s not enjoying the thought of the spreader as much as he said he would.

His mouth feels so dry. ‘It’s a lot.’

Rose nods. She doesn’t frown, he wouldn't call it that, but her forehead isn’t as even as it was. He’s disappointed her. That thought drops through his stomach like a lead weight, the shame bubbling like hot sick in the pit of his stomach.

‘I know. And we don’t have to use it today,’ she says. Rose inclines her head slightly, eyes flitting to briefly to a point beyond his shoulder. ‘Sure, I’d like to. But if you don’t want to or if you aren’t sure, we can come back to it.’

Scorpius nods. He likes the idea of being bent over, exposed and scared and little before her, but the thought of her leaving the room while he’s like that makes him feel violently ill. The words catch in his throat. What had she said before that made him think it would be fun?

‘Why don’t you tell me what you do like about the idea,’ Rose says. She slides a hand up over his neck, playing with the sensitive hair at the top of his spine as she waits for an answer.

‘You,’ Scorpius answers honestly. Her hand moves down to thumb the base of his spine and it unspools the tightness in his back.

Her touch is so light and gentle. Scorpius shudders as she teases the sensitive skin near his ribs, the sensation a tickle that has him twitching away even while his head is starting to swim from the motion. The rope around his wrists means that he can’t escape properly, can’t move away from her touch, can’t escape the constant feedback of her fingernails against his back. Rose doesn’t stop, however, keeps on tracing those soft and unending patterns over his skin until Scorpius feels his thoughts dissolve in that a warm, glowing loop of sensation.

‘Scorpius,’ Rose murmurs, ‘Answer me.’

Her voice sounds further away than it did before but she hasn’t moved an inch. ‘I like being here,’ Scorpius says, words bubbling up and away from him like hollow beads of light. ‘Like you.’

Rose smiles down at him, other hand stroking through his hair. ‘If I stay up here, would that help?’

She is always careful when he starts to sink into it, always keeps her questions easy. Some part of him, the more alert voice in the back of his head, whispers about how grateful he should feel. Grateful that she looks after him so well, that she cares so much and is so good.

‘Think about it for me, sweetheart. Do you want me to stay up here?’

It takes a long few moments for him to think about it. He doesn’t like it when she vanishes. He likes the broad strokes her hands make down his back, likes how it makes him feel small and safe and he imagines Rose wrapping warm palms around him until he’s surrounded by her like a beautiful, perfect, fleshy house.

She sounds so fond when she says, ‘What are you giggling at, sweetheart?’ and it makes Scorpius heart clench to think that he could make her sound like that just by laughing. He loves her.

He thinks back to her question and concentrates on answering. There’s cotton-wool fog floating through his head and it feels so _good_. ‘Stay here. Please.’

She nods, brushing the fringe out of Scorpius’ eyes. ‘Okay, baby.’

Her eyelids lower a little as she moves to lay alongside him, carefully within line of sight, letting out a pleased hum as she reaches out to stroke firm hands down his side. Scorpius laughs a little breathlessly. He wants to touch her so much, wants to run his fingers down between her breasts and drag them down to wetness and heat.

‘I want to touch you,’ Scorpius mumbles, eyes catching on the freckles near her nipples. They jump whenever she breathes and he wants to track them with his tongue, find every single one of them and join them together like a living dot-to-dot.

‘Not yet. Stay here,’ she orders, reaching around to lift the thin metal of the bar from its position on the bed. Rose gives him a level look, commanding and sure. ‘Tell me if you start to feel not okay or off and I’ll be up here in a heartbeat.’

Scorpius dimly hears something rustle as Rose shuffles around behind him and he’s thankful that he can hear her from his slumped position. She rests the metal bar against the softness of his thigh as she checks the cuffs around his ankles once more. The metal is cold and sharp and hard and is just the right contrast to the bed and his cuffs and to Rose.

Scorpius whimpers happily as the feeling makes him aware of other sensations -- the rigid line of his cock being ignored, the scratchy cotton of his bedsheets. The mellow pulse of his head dims as Rose clicks the bar to the cuffs around his thighs and then he feels –

‘You look so fucking pretty,’ Rose whispers at him, fiercely, as she slips back up the bed until her entire front is pressed along his side and she can purr directly into his ear. ‘Beautiful boy. The black looks so pretty against your skin. You glorious, _perfect_ boy, Daddy is so proud of you. Just look at you. How does it feel?’

It feels. Harsh and unforgiving when he tries to bring his legs together, to close them even slightly, to hide the weight of his arousal. The bar refuses to let it happen. Two points of firm pressure bloom at the base of his thighs where the spreader begins and ends. The thought of it makes Scorpius feel weak and small and vulnerable and it’s— it’s everything Rose promised it would be, everything and so much.

Rose could do whatever she wanted to him right now and he’d just have to take it, just have to let her take him because he can’t move his hands or his legs away from her. His head is full of garbled static.

Scorpius groans, half-turning to hide his face against the bed. He feels something press against the corner of his lips and Scorpius drops his lips open. Rose presses the tip of a finger, two fingers into his mouth and he mouths absently at them. Scorpius flicks his tongue out and over her fingertips when she withdraws them, only to push her fingers back in his mouth, deeper until he has to turn his head back and meet her gaze.

‘That’s it,’ Rose whispers, her free hand skating circles at the base of top of his arse. Scorpius’ mouth goes a little dry when she dips her hand down and rubs over his entrance, filthy and dry. ‘Keep going, baby.’

Licks and suckles at her hands until spit is dripping down past the knuckle and she reaches back to rub the slick against his hole. Scorpius moans, low, thrusting up against nothing as his cock twitches. He wants to be filled, stretched open and fucked until he can’t stop himself from coming even if it makes her angry.

He wants to please Daddy as much as make her angry. Being bratty is fun sometimes.

‘Are you gunna fuck me, Daddy?’ Scorpius asks when she doesn’t push in. She doesn’t answer straight away, doesn’t cease the fierce gaze as she watches him and keeps massaging around his entrance.

‘Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,’ she says, pressing a kiss below his ear. The movement is so small and soft, Scorpius can’t help the pleased whimper that falls out of him. When Rose moves to suck gently at his neck, he shudders against her mouth, fingers flexing with pleasure.

Scorpius bites back whimpers as she pushes a finger into him, the angle wrong and he knows it’s on purpose. Rose knows exactly where his sweet spot is, knows exactly the right place to push until he weeps for mercy. She must have a reason for choosing not to fuck him. She must think he doesn’t need to know it yet.

‘I want to fuck you, baby boy, but I’d have to move.’ Rose says, stretching her fingers apart where they’re inside him. ‘I can’t fuck you and stay where you can see me.’

‘Ahuh,’ Scorpius agrees, absently, breath making a damp patch against the bed.

Her hands are working miracles within him, pressing right up against that spot that sends electricity scorching up his spine. Scorpius nods, then nods again as she curls her fingers and massages that place.

‘Your thighs are shaking,’ Rose murmurs, an edge creeping into her voice. Her eyes flash and there’s something cruel in the way she is intent on watching Scorpius hump the air, desperate for pressure against his thickening cock. ‘Take a deep breath for me.’

‘Touch me,’ Scorpius blurts out -- no, he begs – as Rose starts pumping her fingers faster in-and-out of his hole. ‘Daddy, please, I need it.‘

‘Sweetheart,’ Rose says in a low voice, naked and beautiful where she lays beside him. ‘Don’t be rude. Good boys don’t beg to be touched, do they?’

Scorpius knows for a fact that good boys do beg, especially if that good boy has a Daddy like Rose who _loves_ it when he’s dirty and desperate.

As if she can sense exactly what he’s thinking, Rose tuts and leans in to press her teeth against his neck. She bites down once, not hard enough to bruise but strong enough to be a threat, before she pulls back and groans eagerly, ‘It’s such a shame because I love it when you beg. I love it, baby, it makes me wish I could keep you naked all the time. Keep you naked and spread like this. Would you like that? I could keep you hidden away in my room and then I could escape to look at you whenever I wanted.’

‘ _Please_.’ Scorpius cants his hips up against nothing and hopes she understands that he wants that too, wants to only be hers and to always be ready for her. ‘Please, please–’

Rose shuffles up until she’s kneeling, facing towards the end of the bed. She makes a cooing noise at whatever she sees there and doesn’t seem that sympathetic when she adds, ‘That does look sore.’ 

Scorpius feels the lightest touch brush against the back of his balls and he nearly wheezes at the torture of it. The intensity of her fingers in his ass is such a sharp pleasure now that she’s massaging his prostate. The head of his cock feels so sensitive against his stomach, pre-cum turning tacky in the hair threaded up his navel. All she needs to do is reach around and touch it for him to come. That’s it.

He can’t fall any further onto the bed, can’t fall to the side because of the spreader, can’t reach a hand round to rub himself. His cock feels like it’s on fire with the need to be touched.

‘I’ve barely done anything to you yet. I don’t know why you’re enjoying yourself so much,’ Rose whispers. Scorpius can’t see her, can barely hear her over the wet sound of her fingers inside him. She stops right before the wave of pulsing pleasure sweeps over him. 

There’s a familiar click and then something cold and sloppy dribbles down the crease of his ass, curving down his balls and making him shiver with the unexpectedness of it. Scorpius thinks he’s open and ready enough without more lube, but Rose smears it over his entrance and down, down, slicking the base of his cock and all the way up his balls in long, gentle strokes that massage pre-come out of him.

‘So pretty,’ Rose says again, voice crackling slightly.

\---

It ends – minutes or hours later, Scorpius has no fucking clue – with his thighs shaking and cock spent, slumped against the sheets, legs quivering and unable to close his mouth or thighs. He is open and used and filthy, drooling all over the sheets without a care in the world and he doesn’t even notice how damp it is until Rose swipes a finger under his chin, eyes wet and cheeks damp.

He doesn’t want to pull back from the sharp clearness in his head. Everything feels bright and sharp. Like he’s a living, slumping shard of glass. Yet. The part of his brain that is drifting is also the part that doesn’t want Rose out of his sight for a heartbeat.

He watches Rose in a daze as she moves around the room, still in sight, picking up a towel, then sees rather than feels her press cup of water to his lips. ‘Do you think you can hold the glass, love?’

He probably nods. It’s hard to tell.

Rose laughs, not maliciously. She presses a kiss against the corner of his lips and slowly tilts the glass until Scorpius feels cool water hit the back of his throat. It’s lovely, just what he needed.

‘Good boy,’ Rose says, eyes bright. She sounds a little awed and Scorpius feels happiness bloom in his chest. That’s something he’s done, something he’s made her feel. ‘Look at you, sweetheart.’

His head is a rhythm of _Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose_ that doesn’t settle and won’t stop. At some point she unclips the bar, leaving the buttery-soft leather cuffs around his thighs.

Comes back more when the feeling returns to his arms in a sudden rush and Rose cooes at whatever noise he makes. She massages his arms, slowly lifting them from his back in turn and bringing them around her. Details slowly filter back to Scorpius: Rose’s hip clicking when she reaches over, the sound of laughter coming in through the window, a dim ache in his left knee.

He still feels a little distant when Rose taps his shoulder and says, ‘Sit up for me. How do you feel?’

Scorpius murmurs and thinks he might smile at her. He can’t be sure but he thinks he does. Rose looks pleased anyway, alert in a way that she usually isn’t. She gets so stressed sometimes. They should have done this weeks ago.

‘What was that?’

‘S’good,’ Scorpius says after a moment. His jaw cracks on a yawn. ‘Good. I’m tired.’

Rose pets his hair as she considers him with a long look. ‘Do you need a nap, baby?’

‘Okay,’ she murmurs. She strokes his hair, once, twice, and then Scorpius feels himself click back into that bright-soft space when Rose leans down to press a soft kiss against his forehead. ‘Go ahead, Daddy’s got you.’

**Author's Note:**

> This is gratuitous af and I thoroughly enjoyed writing this fic. Sorry if you expected a cumshot (or proper editing, my bad, tbc) but I was tired by that point and tbh I quite like how this fic turned out without it. Hope you enjoy, thank you for reading! <3


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